


To Stop a Blight

by saintgenevieve



Series: The Grey Lady [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Quests
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22813039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintgenevieve/pseuds/saintgenevieve
Summary: Liadan Surana, dreamer and spirit healer of the Circle of Magi, would never have guessed that she would decide the fate of kingdoms when she was recruited to the Grey Wardens by Duncan. But after the catastrophe at Ostagar, she is forced into the role of hero and leader and must unite a divided Ferelden against the threat of the age, while also struggling to keep control of her wild heart.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Surana (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Series: The Grey Lady [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556026
Kudos: 6





	1. Bound in Blood and Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why did you betray your friend?”
> 
> She flinched like he’d slapped her, the color draining from her face. Then shock melted into white-hot rage and she narrowed her eyes at him in a venomous glare. “That’s none of your business,” she snapped.

“May I ask you a question?”

The girl looked up from where she’d been staring pensively into the crackling fire and met his eyes with her big blue ones. She wasn’t particularly tall—but then height wasn’t as common in elves as it was in men. She was lithe, though, and hidden beneath her deceptively delicate features there was adamant in her soul. _She’d make an excellent Warden-Commander when I’m gone. No wonder Irving was loathe to let her go—she was to be his successor._ _What a First Enchanter she would have been. Like Fiona, a little._

“If you must,” Liadan said, hunching her shoulders a little as though preparing for a blow.

“Why did you betray your friend?”

She flinched like he’d slapped her, the color draining from her face. Then shock melted into white-hot rage and she narrowed her eyes at him in a venomous glare. “That’s none of your business,” she snapped.

Duncan gave her a mild look. “I was merely curious, Surana. I must be certain you will not betray your new brothers-in-arms.”

Liadan opened her mouth and then closed it and turned away, eyes keen on something in the distance. She stood with a frown, dusted herself off, and marched away. Before Duncan could call out to her to stop, they were suddenly in another camp—this one in the Deep Roads. Vertigo hit him and he jumped up in alarm at the sudden change in scenery.

“What—”

“Oh, don’t worry. This is just a dream,” Liadan said, standing next to a bedroll across the fire from him. “You’re alright, Warden-Commander.”

“Irving said you were a Spirit Healer.”

“I am a Spirt Healer. I simply also happen to be a somniari.”

“A dreamer,” he whispered, with no small amount of awe.

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “You’re from Rivian, aren’t you? I’d read they thought differently of magic than most of Thedas. That mages are freer there.”

“I take it no one at the tower knew what you are?”

Liadan snorted. “Of course not! I may be young but I’m not a fool. I know what happens to dreamers behind Circle walls. They’re afraid of us—even more so than regular mages—and fear makes men stupid. As my mother would say, _fear destroys the mind, poisons the heart, and rots the soul. It is fear that turns men into monsters._ ”

“She sounds like a wise woman.”

“She was,” the girl said sadly. “She’d be disappointed in me. Do you want to know why I betrayed Jowan? It’s because I was afraid—afraid of spending the rest of my life trapped in a cage, forever watched and watching, never again to feel the rain on my face or stand free beneath the stars.”

As she spoke, the world around them changed once again, shifting from the deep roads to the shores of Lake Calenhad, the tower rising sharply up towards the star-studded sky, the moon reflected in the shimmering water. Duncan couldn’t quite bring himself to be afraid of the young woman, dangerous though she could very well be. He understood her fear; he himself struggled with his own fear of the Calling, of the coming Blight.

“There will be no templars monitoring you in the Grey Wardens, young one. And though I suspect it is not quite the sort of freedom you dreamed of, you need not be afraid of anyone hurting you because of your magic. You’ll be an asset to our forces, as all powerful mages are,” Duncan assured her.

“Thank you. You won’t regret giving me this chance.” 

He grinned. “I know it, young sister.”

She returned his smile with one of her own. “Dream well, commander.” And then the lake and the stars and the moon all dissolved, and instead, there were only the screams of the Archdemon and the movement of the darkspawn in the roads deep below him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I originally published To Stop a Blight earlier, but then wanted to redo several things, so just decided to scrap the original and start over again. This story will follow Liadan Surana, my Warden through Origins, the decisions she makes and the impact she has on the world around her.


	2. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shrugged. “That’s what I’m here for: to deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners,” he said wryly.
> 
> “I’m sure you’re plenty useful for other things too,” Liadan flirted, pushing her shoulder against his.

Liadan couldn’t stop shivering, even as she sat hunched before the fire, the strange dragon’s cries still echoing in her ears, it’s terrible face still haunting her every time she closed her eyes. How was she supposed to sleep like this?

“You alright?” Alistair asked.

She jumped. “How long have you been standing there?”

He laughed and sat down beside her on the log. “Only a little while. I…couldn’t sleep. Nightmares about the archdemon, you know. You see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. That’s what the dreams are, us hearing them. The archdemon, it…talks to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That’s why we know this is really a Blight.”

“The archdemon? Is that the dragon?”

“I don’t know if it’s really a dragon, but it sure looks like one. But yes, that’s the archdemon. It takes a bit, but eventually you can block the dreams out. Some of the older Grey Wardens say they can understand the archdemon a bit, but I sure can’t. The dreams were scary at first, but you get used to them.”

Liadan grinned up at him. “Thank you, Alistair.”

He shrugged. “That’s what I’m here for: to deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners,” he said wryly.

“I’m sure you’re plenty useful for other things too,” Liadan flirted, pushing her shoulder against his.

“Ha. Sure.” But his cheeks were delightfully pink, and he was smiling.

“Would you mind if I asked you some questions?”

“Not at all. Ask away!”

“Alright. You said you were raised by Arl Eamon of Redcliffe, right?”

“Did I say that? I meant that dogs raised me. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels—a whole pack of them, in fact.”

Liadan arched one dark eyebrow. “Really? That must have been tough for them.”

“Well, they were flying dogs you see. Surprisingly strict parents, too, and devout Andrastians, to boot.”

She snickered. “Uh-huh. Raised by flying, devout dogs. I see.”

“Or did I dream all of that? Funny the dreams you’ll have when you sleep on the cold, hard ground, isn’t it? Are you having strange dreams?”

Liadan looked at him from beneath her lashes, lips quirking up into a small smile. “Only ones where we’re making mad love in my tent,” she said, voice pitched low and sweet.

“I..oh. I think I…completely lost my chain of thought…oh, there it is.” The tips of his ears were red and his face was flushed. He shook himself before continuing. “Let’s see. How do I explain this? I’m a bastard. And before you make any smart comments, I mean the fatherless kind. My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn’t my father, but he took me in anyhow and put a roof over my head. He was good to me, and he didn’t have to be. I respect the man and I don’t blame him anymore for sending me off to the Chantry once I was old enough.”

“Why did he send you to the Chantry, though?” Liadan asked curiosity peaked.

“Arl Eamon eventually married a young woman from Orlais, which caused all sorts of problems between him and the king because it was so soon after the war. But he loved her. Anyhow, the new arlessa resented the rumors which pegged me as his bastard. They weren’t true, but of course, they existed. The arl didn’t care, but she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well. The arlessa made sure the castle wasn’t a home to me by that point. She despised me.”

“What an awful thing to do to a child,” Liadan murmured.

“Maybe. She felt threatened by my presence. I can see that now, and I can’t say I blame her. She wondered if the rumors were true herself, I bet. I remember I had an amulet with Andraste’s holy symbol on it—the only thing I had of my mother’s. I was so furious at being sent away I tore it off and threw it at a wall and it shattered. Stupid, stupid thing to do. The arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was, but I was stubborn. I hated it there and blamed him for everything…and eventually he just stopped coming.” His voice was very sad.

Gently, Liadan took his hand in hers. “You were very young, Alistair.”

“And raised by dogs. Or I may as well have been, the way I acted. But maybe all young bastards act like that. I don’t know.”

“Or perhaps you were a lonely, mistreated child who felt rejected by the only father figure you’d ever known. You were right to be angry. No child should ever be treated the way you were—as a burden. You deserved better, and you still do.”

“Thank you,” he said, leaning towards her and squeezing her hand, hazel eyes bright and kind.

 _Oh, Maker, save me from handsome men with tragic pasts and kind eyes_ , Liadan thought, her heart leaping at Alistair’s proximity.

“Arl Eamon is a good man, though, and well-loved by the people. He was also King Cailan’s uncle, so he has a personal motivation to see Loghain pay for what he did. If we go to Redcliffe and ask him for aid, he’ll give it. I _know_ it.”

“I don’t know much about human lords, but I’ll trust you. If you say he’ll help us, then I’m sure you’re right.”

“And what about you? What about your family?” Alistair asked.

“My mother was Dalish, but she left her clan a long time before I was born. She and my father met while she was staying in Denerim, and they fell in love. My mother was also an apostate, and a spirit healer like me. She used her powers, and her knowledge of herbalism, to help the elves in the Alienage. People were sick less, babies didn’t die in their cradles as much, more women made it through childbirth and after, with her around to help. Until the templars came and killed her and took me to the tower.”

“Oh…I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s just the way Ferelden—and Thedas itself—is, I suppose. The Chantry hates magic, humans hate elves, and the nobles pretend that there are no problems at all if they can’t see them. That’s the way it’s always been, and the way it will always be until someone finally stands up and says _enough_.”

“You could try,” he suggested.

“As though anyone would listen to me. No, the only person who could make Ferelden better is the one wearing a crown. But no king or queen will ever be brave enough to truly change things,” Liadan said bitterly.

“Maybe, after the Blight is over, we can try anyway.”

“Maybe, but I'm not going to hold my breath."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot of the dialogue is taken from the game, but I just really like the conversation and wanted to try and put my own spin on it. I don't own Dragon Age: Origins, but if I did, I would beat Arlessa Isolde up so much.


	3. Broodmother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liadan broods on what it means to be a Warden and Alistair is bad at feelings. Poor boy.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

Liadan looked up from her mug of good dwarven ale to find Alistair standing before her, a strange look on his face. Concern, maybe? Or perhaps the narrowing of his eyes was jealousy at the young dwarf shamelessly flirting with his drunk fellow Warden. She smiled at him, eyes unfocused, but as bright as ever. “Ali, I’ve had not nearly enough. I can still speak without slurring,” she said, casting the full power of her gaze on him.

He snorted. “Come on, up with you now. Oghren dozed off into his drink ten minutes ago, and Leliana retired half an hour ago with an order to put you to bed soon…so.” He hauled her up, out of her seat, and into the warm circle of his arms.

“Fine, you can take me to bed. But you’re going to have to carry me because I’m not walking!” she announced, giggling, delighted to feel the strength of him.

Alistair rolled his eyes, but quite obligingly scooped her up into his arms, while she twined her arms around his shoulders, and proceeded to carry her out of the feast hall. It was late enough that most of the people who would have gossiped about such an event were already off on their own scandalous doings. Alistair wouldn’t have cared anyway—he was still just a bastard nobody and would be until they reached Redcliffe. He hated lying to Liadan, who was the dearest friend he’d ever had, and the last Warden left in Ferelden besides him. Duncan had, before sending them to the Tower of Ishal, charged Alistair with Liadan’s protection. _She has a rare power in her, Alistair. She will heal your wounds and keep you from dying in battle, but in turn, you must be her sword and her shield. You must guard her against every danger—darkspawn and men alike will try to harm her_ , he had said. 

“First day, they come and catch everyone.

Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.

Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.

Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.

Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn.

Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams—”

“Why are you singing that terrible poem in my ear while I’m valiantly carrying you—drunk damsel in distress that you are—to your very fancy guest chambers?” Alistair asked, voice a warm rumble in her ear. 

Liadan didn’t answer, except to tuck her head under his chin and tighten her arms around him.

“Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.

Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.

Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.

Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.

Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams,” she finished in a whisper, barely there and full of a terror Alistair could only dream about. He’d seen her face in the deep roads when they’d encountered the broodmother—pale as bone and painted with horror.

Gingerly, he put her down in order to open the door to her room, but kept one arm around her waist, keeping her tucked safe against his side. The door creaked open to reveal a fire already burning in the hearth. Liadan moved out from his embrace and towards the flames, drawn to the light like the most beautiful of moths.

Her back to him, she spoke. “I would rather die than be that. It’s worse than anything, worse than Tranquility. I’ll die first.” Her voice shook. “And Duncan didn’t tell me. No one told me before the Joining. I knew drinking darkspawn blood can fuck a person up, but I did it anyway. I did it to be free. He promised me freedom, but this—the Calling, the Blight, the broodmothers—this isn’t freedom. It’s more than I had, but it’s not what I really wanted. You know?”

Alistair swallowed hard, at a total loss. He had wanted to be a Grey Warden more than anything. “Tell me what to say. I…I don’t know how to help.” The desperation in his voice spoke to her of the depth of his feeling for her.

She turned back toward him and held her arms out him. “Just hold me. Please.”

He crossed the room in a few quick strides and pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin and covering the back of her neck with a large, warm hand. Trembling, she clung to him, wanting desperately to burrow into his shirt and hide there from the world and let Alistair take care of her and shelter her from the storm.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Tonight? _Tonight_? Are—are you sure—isn’t it improper?”

“Alistair, I’m not asking you to ravish me. I just…I got used to sleeping back to back with you in the deep roads and I just…I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Liadan said, rolling her eyes. “Your virtue is in no danger from me.” _Yet_ , her star-bright eyes promised.

“Well, alright, then. I’ll stay.”

She hugged him close again, and he pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head, as though to reassure her that her flirting was not unwanted. Liadan closed her eyes and enjoyed his warmth and his touch, soaking it up like a cat napping in the sun. _Oh, Mythal, save me from this strange, kind, handsome human and my own treacherous heart. Anders never had me in this much trouble!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was super creeped out by Hespith and the whole thing with the broodmothers while searching for the Anvil of the Void. Like the broodmother looks so disgusting, the idea of it having been a regular woman at one point who was then corrupted by the darkspawn is just really disturbing. Made my skin crawl, and I can't imagine Liadan feeling any different. Yikes!


	4. Flesh and Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You do not wish to join our companions in unconsciousness?” Shayle asked, voice a low rumble. 
> 
> “My dreams are too restless down here. I’ll sleep when we’re back on the surface.”

Cadash Thaig was the prettiest place Liadan had been in the deep road. It had been infested with darkspawn, of course, but there were shimmering crystals everywhere and pools of clear water that seemed to be bottomless and blessedly free of filth. Shayle had looked about often in wonder, her footsteps echoing through the caves. The flawless green crystals set in her shoulders glittered sharply in the low light of the mostly abandoned thaig.

The darkspawn were dealt with though, as were the deepstalkers, and Liadan and her companions were the only things left living in the thaig. They’d decided to rest a while before returning to Orzammar, and then the surface. Slogging through the various enemies in the remains of what had once been Shayle’s home had been exhausting, and Alistair and Oghren had passed out almost as soon as they’d had the chance. Liadan and Shayle kept watch in the semi-darkness together. 

“You do not wish to join our companions in unconsciousness?” Shayle asked, voice a low rumble. 

“My dreams are too restless down here. I’ll sleep when we’re back on the surface.” She paused and then said, “Do you feel more comfortable here than on the surface? Or is it the same? I never thought to ask.”

The golem shifted with a shrug like a glacier moving. “I feel...secure here. Not anywhere else in the Deep Roads, only here. Perhaps because this is where I came from, where I was born before I was forged. And there are no pesky birds!”

Liadan chuckled. “It’s much prettier here than the other thaigs we explored. Less ruined, more scenic. There’s more green here than I was expecting. This place feels different than the rest of the roads, though I don’t know why. But somehow, I feel secure here too.”

“You are very strange.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Thank you. For siding with Caridin instead of Branka. She was the paragon you were searching for after all.”

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing. The Anvil of the Void was used to trap living souls in the stone bodies. It’s one thing when someone volunteers for it, as Caridin said you did, but to be forced into something like that...it’s horrific. Everyone deserves a choice,” Liadan said. 

“You are the first flesh being I have ever met who has not treated me with disdain. You came here when I asked you to, though I know you long for the surface. Why do these things? What do you have to gain?” Shayle asked suspiciously. 

“I just want to help people. That’s what I know my magic is for, and that’s all I want,” Liadan answered simply. 

“Hmmmm,” Shayle grumbled. “I still think you are very strange.”

The elf laughed. “Everyone who’s joined our merry little band is strange, including you. And I’m sure we’ll meet even stranger people before all this is over.”

For several long minutes, they were both silent, the crackling of the fire and the snoring coming from their companions the only sounds in the abandoned thaig. Then, finally, Shayle spoke. “Do you think it would be possible for me to be restored to my original body? To be a dwarf...a woman again?”

“I don’t know,” Liadan said honestly. “With magic, many things are possible. But you probably don’t remember being made a golem, so we don’t know what happened to your body when your soul was transferred to the one you have now. And we don’t know what made the Anvil of the Void special, what gave it the ability to create golems. There could be a way to make you a person again, but if there is we would have to search far and wide for it.”

“I see. Perhaps once we have defeated the Blight, that will be my new goal.”

“I’d be more than willing to do some research when I have the time.”

“Thank you,” Shayle rumbled. 

“Anytime.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Shayle. Like I love her so much.


	5. Rosy Cheeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair gives Liadan a rose.

It was almost sunset when Alistair approached her, sitting down beside her before the campfire. Sten and Leliana were hunting in the forest, the newly acquired assassin was in his tent, as was Oghren, Morrigan was nowhere to be seen, and Shayle had wandered off to explore some time ago. They were practically alone in the camp— except for Garahel, Liadan’s enormous mabari who was napping near his mistress. 

“Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?” Alistair held out a slightly crumpled red rose to her, its soft petals drooping just a little bit. 

“Your new weapon of choice?” Liadan suggested with a smirk. 

“Yes, that's right. Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent! Or, you know, it could just be a rose. I know that’s pretty dull in comparison.”

“You never know. Flowers _are_ used in a number of deadly poisons. It’s usually the most beautiful things in nature that are also the most deadly.”

“I...erm...didn’t know that.”

“So is there any particular reason you’re showing me a rose?”

“I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking ‘How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?’ I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn’t. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I’ve had it ever since.” 

“That’s a lovely thought, Alistair.”

“I thought that I might...give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you.” His face was pink with embarrassment. 

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I guess it’s a bit silly, isn’t it? I just thought...here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven’t exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You’ve had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It’s all been death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this...darkness,” he explained, expression earnest and open. 

Heart aching with longing, Liadan gently took the rose from him and in her hands, it bloomed, the petals smoothing out, the stem straightening, and it was as beautiful as it had been the day he picked it. She turned her face to his like a flower seeking the sun and caught his mouth in a tender kiss that sent sparks flying down his spine. Her lips were soft against his, and her hand, as it slid into his hair and tilted his head to adjust the angle of their kiss, was warm. He made a low sound in the back of his throat and pulled her into his arms, settling her sideways on his lap. She wound her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself harder against him, deepening the desperate meeting of their mouths, and made a soft sound of pleasure as his hand brushed the side of her breast. 

Alistair pulled away just a little bit and rested his forehead against hers. “Maker,” he breathed. 

Liadan chuckled softly, the sound warm as summer sunlight. “You’ve been driving me crazy for weeks, and that’s all you have to say?”

“I’ve been half-mad since I met you,” Alistair confessed. “Maker, Lia, you have no idea—”

She kissed him again, and then pulled away with a playful nip. “I might have some idea. Was this...too soon for you? I know you don’t have a lot of experience, and I don’t want to rush you.”

“You’re not...rushing me, that is. To be honest, I thought I was imagining the flirting, fooling myself into thinking you had feelings for me. We’ve gone through so much together, and you always listen to me, but I didn’t think it meant you wanted me,” he confessed. 

“Is it so strange that I would want you, Alistair? You’re kind and handsome and very sweet. What woman wouldn’t want you?” she murmured, nuzzling her nose against his. 

He blushed. “No woman has before.”

Liadan cupped his face between her hands and gazed into his eyes. “No woman has admitted it before, but I’m sure plenty have suffered in silence, driven to distraction by your broad shoulders and your sweet smile.” She kissed him lightly. “Do you want me, the way I want you?”

“Yes,” he said fervently. “I’ve never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want you.”

The delicate tips of Liadan’s pointed ears went pink at his profession and she leaned forward to kiss him again, unable to stop herself. It went on forever, his mouth moving against hers, his hands in her hair, his warm body against hers. She never wanted to stop. She wanted to spend eternity kissing him. 

Eventually, he pulled away to breathe. “Maker’s breath, but you’re beautiful. I am a lucky man,” he said softly, eyes intense on her face. 

_I think I'm falling in love with you, Maker help_ _me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What cutie-pies. Too bad their relationship is doomed.


	6. Lost in Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Andraste’s tits, there’s always some lesson with you isn’t there,” Liadan muttered under her breath.
> 
> “However,” Wynne said, slightly louder, “we must speak about what happened in the Fade. You defeated Sloth quite easily.”

_ “Wynne, listen! You’ve got to listen to me! This is the Fade; you’re dreaming.” _

_ “Leave me be!” _

_ Liadan growled in frustration. “Faith! I know you’re there—and you’ve got to help me. If we don’t wake up soon, we’ll die, and the Circle will be Annulled. Wynne wouldn’t want that. Please, help me!” _

When Wynne woke, her back ached and she felt horribly nauseous. She struggled into a sitting position to see that Liadan was already up, helping Alistair to his feet and asking Leliana if she was able to move. Liadan made a simple motion with her hand and Wynne felt the younger mage’s power wash over her, refreshing as a cool drink on a summer day.  _ The most powerful spirit healer I’ve ever encountered, and now I know why _ , Wynne thought.  _ Not just a healer, but more.  _

Liadan extended her hand to Wynne. “Are you alright?”

“I am alive, which is in no small part thanks to you. However—”

“Andraste’s tits, there’s always some lesson with you isn’t there,” Liadan muttered under her breath.

“However,” Wynne said, slightly louder, “we must speak about what happened in the Fade. You defeated Sloth quite easily.”

Liadan shrugged.

“Your Harrowing was the fastest in the history of Kinloch Hold,” Wynne continued. “And your healing abilities are far beyond what they should be. I never noticed how strong you are until now—almost as though you have always held back.”

Alistair wandered over. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Liadan said quickly. “We should move on.”

“You will answer my question, Apprentice.”

Liadan glared at her. “I’m not an apprentice any longer; I’m a Grey Warden. And anyway, you haven’t even asked me a question. To be honest, it sounds like you’re accusing me of something—which is rather rude considering I just saved your life.”

Wynne pushed herself up to her full height, staff clutched tight in her hand.

“Fine. Yes. I’m a somniari. Happy now?”

“For those of us who have no idea what’s happening, can I ask what a somniari is?” Alistair cut in.

“A somniari is a mage who can enter the Fade without the use of lyrium or blood magic. Usually, they can also shape the Fade with their will and can wander in and out of other people’s dreams—magisters used that particular trick to kill their enemies or drive them mad as they slept. Somniari are rare—rare among elves and even rarer among humans. The word in common, the word the templars use, is dreamer,” Liadan explained. “They also draw the attention of powerful spirits,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Or demons,” Wynne said pointedly.

“A dreamer,” Leliana breathed in awe, coming to stand beside Alistair. “Like in the old songs and stories.”

Liadan was still arguing with the older mage. “Shall we also discuss that if the templars knew what you were, they’d label you an abomination, despite the fact that you clearly retain your humanity?”

Wynne’s eyes widened and her skin went pale as bone. 

“You thought I wouldn’t notice? I knew the moment I saw you. You’ve become an avatar for a spirit of faith—for all intents and purposes you are  _ Faith _ now, and it is you. You’re entwined now, and nothing can untangle it from you. We are both abominations waiting to happen—in the eyes of the Chantry, at least. Think beyond your fear, Wynne. Have  _ faith _ .” 

Alistair looked very confused. “Liadan?”

She turned toward him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you; I was afraid.”

“Duncan knew, didn’t he? He said you were special, and this is what he meant.”

Liadan nodded. “I told him on the way to Ostagar. He trusted me—trusted me to be a good Warden, trusted me to protect you. Do you trust me?”

Alistair looked at her, a struggle on his handsome face, torn as he was between love and trust and the fear of mages that had been pounded into him for so long. Then he released a deep breath and took her hand. “With my life.”

She turned to Leliana. “You?”

“The Maker granted you such a gift for a reason. I trust Him, and you,” the bard announced. 

Finally, Liadan’s clear blue eyes fell on Wynne. “Can you trust me to save the tower, to stop the Annulment? Can we work together for that long?”

_ We are Faith. We cannot betray what we are because of petty fear. She is called to some higher purpose, and we must help her. We must be true to ourselves. Have faith, be Faith. _

“Yes. I trust you, Liadan.”

Relief spread across Liadan’s face and her shoulders relaxed. “Then let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wynne and Liadan have a really interesting relationship. Wynne has taught her a lot but also represents a system that Liadan hates with a passion. They both know the Circles don't work, but Liadan thinks there can be no compromise and Wynne thinks compromise is the only way.


	7. Ashes and Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Had fun with the riddle game?” something that was definitely not Jowan asked, its eyes piercing Liadan right to her very soul. 

“Had fun with the riddle game?” something that was definitely not Jowan asked, its eyes piercing Liadan right to her very soul. 

“You’re not Jowan. He’s in a dungeon in Redcliffe.” 

“I didn’t think I’d fool you. But am I really a spirit? Or is all this in your mind? Are you in the Fade, perhaps? Honestly, I don’t know. I am part of the Gauntlet; I am Jowan; I am you—all these statements are true,” he said in a distant, echoey voice. 

Liadan sighed. “I don’t want to play games. Why are you here? What do you want?”

“To speak to you, and to offer advice. You have wondered, many times, if what happened to me was your doing. Perhaps things would have been different if you had not gone to Irving. But it is too easy to obsess over ‘what if’ and ‘what could have been.’ These thoughts will eat away at you if you let them, and I know you are. Why do you torture yourself, Liadan?”

“I betrayed you!” she cried, tears filling her eyes. “You were my last friend left, with Solana dead and Anders in solitary, but I cared more about securing my own safety than helping you. I should have paid more attention, kept you away from blood magic. I failed you, as I failed Solana. As I failed my mother. I’m a coward.”

“You are  _ not _ ,” the being said, it’s voice stronger with the words. “You must forgive yourself, just as I have forgiven you. You did not fail me, Liadan, nor are you responsible for my mistakes. I chose my path, just as you chose yours. You have more important things to do than sit around brooding on the things you’ve done wrong. You must learn from the past, and then move on.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You must.” He smiled at her and held out his hand, palm up. In it was an amulet that seemed to radiate power. “I have something for you. Use it well. It makes me happy, knowing you will be the mage that I never could. You’ll shake this world to its very foundations, I have no doubt.” And then he was gone, as though he had never been. 

Liadan took a deep breath. “Well, that was awful.” 

Alistair laughed and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No. We need to keep going. There’s no telling what else we’ll have to face before we get to Andraste’s ashes,” Liadan said, rolling her shoulders back and steeling herself. “Let’s see what else the Gauntlet has in store, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else just really like the Temple of Sacred Ashes? Because I love it. The riddles, the puzzles, the super creepy cult. I know this chapter is kind of short, but I enjoyed writing it. I love hinting at Liadan's tragic history and we'll probably be seeing a flashback of Solana at some point. I've got some tragic headcanons for her.


	8. Cliffs Red With Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Liadan have a chat.

When Liadan knocked on the door, there was no answer. “Connor, I know you’re in there. Your mother sent me. She’s worried.”

“Go away.” The boy’s voice was small and muffled through the wooden door.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to you. Your mother wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed to check on you—I’m a healer, you see. If you’re hurting, I can help.”

“You can’t cure me of my magic, can you?”

Liadan felt a stab of pity for the poor child. “You don’t need a cure. Magic isn’t a poison or a curse, Connor, it’s a gift.”

“It’s not! I killed people with it!” The distress in his words was obvious and made Liadan’s heart ache.

“That wasn’t your fault. The demon killed them, not you. She used you. You are not responsible for what happened, I promise.”

The door opened a crack and the boy peered out at her. “You don’t think I’m a monster?”

“Of course not! Having magic doesn’t make a person a monster. I’m a mage and I use my magic to help people, as I used it to get Andraste’s ashes so I could save your father,” Liadan said soothingly.

“But…my mother said magic was bad.”

“She’s wrong. Magic can be dangerous, as you have so unfortunately learned, but it can also do amazing things. I can heal even the most stubborn of wounds, light a fire with the dampest wood, and summon flurries of snow to my fingertips. Magic is a gift, perhaps from the Maker, perhaps from something else, but it is a gift. I could show you if you’d like,” she explained to the wide-eyed boy.

“Can you?”

“Of course. I’ll teach you the easiest spell there is, the first spell my mother taught me when I was only a little younger than you: a spell to make light. First, hold your hand out, just like that. Then, feel for your mana, the well of power inside of you. Do you feel it?”

Eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, his hand held out, Connor nodded. “I think so.”

“Now breathe deep and imagine a light appearing in your hand. Let it be warm but not hot, bright but not blinding. Call it forth with your will. Like this.” She held out her hand, palm up, and light burst up from her skin and hovered like a little star, making shadows dance and shiver around them. “Try it, but don’t be discouraged if it doesn’t work right away. It took me weeks to get it the first time.”

Connor closed his eyes, took a breath, and focused. Nothing happened. He tried again, but no light appeared. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“That’s alright. You can keep practicing. You’ll be sent to the Circle soon, and there will be people there who can teach you. I know it’ll be hard to leave your home and your family behind, but you’ll be better off than most. They’ll let you have visits  _ and _ visitors. You won’t be alone.”

“I’m afraid,” he whispered.

“I know. I was too when I was taken to the Circle. But you’ll be alright.” She wasn’t sure if she was lying or not. 

“How do you know?”

She smiled at him and gently ruffled his hair. “It’s magic.”

Connor laughed and Liadan hoped it was a step in the right direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Conner! He's so traumatized when you meet him in Inquisition, I just want to give the poor kid a hug.


	9. The Sweets of the Beresaad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadan!

“Kadan, I do not know what to say.”

Liadan gave a startled laugh. “What does that mean, Sten?”

He pressed a hand to the center of his chest and said, “Why do you give me gifts when I have nothing to give you in return? These cookies you have baked for me yourself, you did this because I mentioned in passing that I enjoyed them and did not have them among the Qunari. Why?”

She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Well…I suppose I want us to be friends. You’re very strong and dependable, and helped me take down a dragon—a really big nasty one that might have been a reborn prophet—and I want you around when I have to kill the Archdemon. Also, I genuinely like to bake. Sometimes, as a treat in the tower, we’d get special ingredients for things like this and one of the servants taught a few of us to bake these cookies. The cook in Redcliffe Castle was grateful to me for saving her lord, so she gave me permission to bake these with her ingredients. I knew you’d like them. I don’t have that much of an ulterior motive, do I?”

“Hmmmm. No. But you also found my sword, Asala, my soul, and gave it to me freely. You do not seem to care that I am different from you, that I am a stranger in this place. You listen to my words, even if you disagree with them. Kadan, I do not understand why. You are a saarebas and yet you are also basalit-an, worthy. I have not known anyone like you.”

Liadan shrugged again and chewed on her lip in thought for a moment. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. I guess, in a way, I’m a stranger too. I’ve spent my life in one cage or another, first the Alienage, and then the Circle. I’m an outsider, just as you are, I’m just better at pretending I’m not. We are similar in that, and that’s why I wanted to help you find a way home. I didn’t want you to have to be a stranger forever.”

“Kadan, Liadan, thank you.” He pressed his hand over his chest again, leaning down toward her, voice as gentle as she had ever heard it.

“It was no trouble. Really.”

He nodded. “We should move on then. Thank you for the cookies.”

She grinned. “You’re welcome.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is also super short, but I love it.


	10. First Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You would be dead,” she said flatly. “And I know you think it would have been better if you’d died in Duncan’s place, but I’m telling you now that you’re wrong. I’m sorry that our mentor is gone, but I’m glad beyond all belief that you’re here with me. I couldn’t do this without you. How many times have you stood between me and danger? It was you who struck the final blow against that High Dragon at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, don’t forget! You are my sword and shield, my stalwart bulwark, and my best friend. There is no one I would rather have at my side for this.”

_ “Well…that was not what I expected. To put it lightly. This is the family I’ve been wondering about all my life? That shrew is my sister? I can’t believe it. I…I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question. Isn’t that what family is supposed to do? I…I feel like a complete idiot,” Alistair said bitterly. _

_ Liadan sighed. “I hate to tell you this, love, but everyone is out for themselves. You should learn that.” _

_ “Yes. I suppose you’re right. I should.” _

_ With a small smile, she reached out and took his hand. “You’re not alone though. I’ll be your family, Ali.” _

And now, camped a few miles out of Denerim for their general safety—though Liadan would have preferred an inn with a real bed—they sat together before the fire, Alistair’s arm a warm weight on her shoulders and her side pressed to his. Early winter that it was, the wind had a chill bite to it during the day, and it could grow quite cold at night, especially in Ferelden. 

Alistair turned his head and pressed a kiss to her crown. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he said into her hair, “about everyone being out for themselves. It’s awful, but it’s true. Everyone seems to want something from me now that I’m known to be King Maric’s son. Suddenly, I’m important, the heir instead of the spare. No one cared about me before they knew but you.”

“Duncan cared,” Liadan reminded him, resting her hand on his knee. “And Cailan may not have spoken to you much, but I think he sent you to the Tower of Ishal because he wanted to protect his little brother from danger. It was him who suggested that you and I light the beacon together. He put you out of harm’s way on purpose.”

“Or maybe he wanted to make sure the Theirin line didn’t die out,” he muttered bitterly. “Or to keep me from getting any glory.”

“You would be dead,” she said flatly. “And I know you think it would have been better if you’d died in Duncan’s place, but I’m telling you now that you’re wrong. I’m sorry that our mentor is gone, but I’m glad beyond all belief that you’re here with me. I couldn’t do this without you. How many times have you stood between me and danger? It was you who struck the final blow against that High Dragon at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, don’t forget! You are my sword and shield, my stalwart bulwark, and my best friend. There is no one I would rather have at my side for this.”

Alistair gazed down at her in wonder and could do nothing but lean down and kiss her, lost for words at her passion, at the depth of her feelings for him. He wove his fingers into her dark hair, and tugged her head back, just a little bit to get a better angle. She made a small sound and looked up at him, flushed with desire. “Spend the night with me, here in my tent,” he whispered, gazing into her fathomless eyes. “I don’t want to wait anymore—I want to be with you more than anything.”

“Yes,” Laidan breathed, “I want that too.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, and together, giddily, they made their way to the tent and slipped one after the other inside. It was then, of course, that his bravado abandoned him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “So….erm….how do we….?”

She smiled. “We should probably start with taking our clothes off,” she suggested, pulling her robes up and over her head—revealing more skin than Alistair had ever seen on a woman—and stood before him in only threadbare leggings and her breast-band. 

His mouth went dry and he couldn’t help but stare. “Maker,” he breathed. 

Liadan moved forward and pressed herself against him. “You’re overdressed, sweetheart. Can I take off your shirt?”

He nodded, and she drew it out from where it was tucked into his trousers. She slid her hands under it, and he shivered at the feeling of her cool hands on his warm skin. She pushed the fabric up, and he raised his arms, and then his shirt was finally off. Liadan wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply, and though her hands had been cool, her body was warm against his. Alistair kissed her harder, pulling her closer, hands eagerly exploring the smooth expanse of her skin. 

Liadan explored as well, touching him gently but firmly, mapping the sweep of his broad shoulders, his strong back, his taut stomach. She sought out every scar, every freckle, fingers finding and teasing and driving him quite mad. He gripped her hips and groaned, wanting her but frustrated with his own lack of experience. 

She pulled back to look up at him through her dark lashes. “I know you were raised in the Chantry, so have you never…?” she trailed off. 

_ How does she always know what I’m thinking? Am I really that easy to read?  _ “Never what? Never had a good pair of shoes?”

Liadan rolled her eyes and stepped out of his arms. “You know what I mean, Ali.”

“I’m not sure I do. Have I never seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?” His tone spoke of humor, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Now you’re just making fun of me,” she complained. 

“Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought! Well, tell me, have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?” He drew out the words in a mockery of seduction. 

“Yes, I have.” She crossed her arms. “But it didn’t mean anything.”

Alistair dropped the humor. “I haven’t…had the pleasure, myself. Not that I haven’t thought about it, but…you know. Of course, I’m not surprised that a beautiful woman such as yourself has more experience than I do.”

Liadan flushed. “You really think I’m beautiful?”

Alistair reached out and pulled her back into his arms, where she belonged. “Of course! You’re ravishing, resourceful, and all those other things you’d probably hurt me for not saying.”

She laid her head on his chest, ear against his heart. “I would never hurt you,” she promised softly. 

“Nor I you.”

“I just…wanted to know how much experience you’ve had. I don’t want to go too fast or make you uncomfortable. I’ve never been with anyone outside the Circle, never had sex outside of a hidden corner or a broom closet. It’s always been a secret before,” she explained.

“Who, er, who was it? Not that templar, Cullen, right?”

She huffed a little laugh. “No, not him. His name is Anders, and he’s a mage like me. We were friends for a long time and became lovers because we were both lonely. He had someone before me, but then his lover was transferred to another Circle.”

“Were you in love with him?”

She snorted. “No. We were just friends with benefits. What I felt for him is nothing like what I feel for you.”

“And what  _ do  _ you feel for me?” 

She framed his face between her hands and drew his head down towards hers. “Let me show you,” she whispered against his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought about going into more detail about the sex stuff but decided not to because sex scenes are surprisingly hard to write.


	11. What's Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, of course not. Love is the best thing we are capable of, the thing that makes us worthy in Andraste’s eyes.” She paused and then smiled slyly. “So…how is Alistair?”
> 
> “He’s still asleep,” Liadan told her, pretending not to understand. 

Liadan woke with the dawn, deliciously sore and brilliantly happy. Alistair slumbered on, snoring softly, his face open and unguarded in sleep. She kissed his lips lightly before slipping out of the tent to greet the new day. 

“So…you and Alistair,” Leliana said, looking up from where she sat before the dying fire with a little smirk. 

Liadan grinned at her in answer. 

“You and Alistair sharing a tent. You, emerging this morning absolutely shameless and positively glowing!” the bard continued, a twinkle in her eye. 

“Should I be ashamed?” She sat down beside her and began to coax the fire up from the embers. 

“No, of course not. Love is the best thing we are capable of, the thing that makes us worthy in Andraste’s eyes.” She paused and then smiled slyly. “So…how is Alistair?”

“He’s still asleep,” Liadan told her, pretending not to understand. 

“You know what I mean. He must be quite delightful…you wouldn’t be so happy otherwise, I think. He’s athletic; that’s always nice. He is also good at following instructions, isn’t he?”

“Very,” Liadan said dreamily. “Though he does have brilliant ideas of his own, too.”

“Ooh! Fascinating. The little templar is all grown up and apparently he…ahem…plays well with others.” 

“He plays  _ very _ well with others,” Liadan said, her words dissolving into giggles.

Leliana laughed too, delighted with her friend’s joy. 

After a long moment of silence, Liadan nudged her gently with her elbow. “We didn’t get the chance to talk about what happened with Marjolaine yesterday. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking.”

“What about?”

“I can’t get what happened out of my head. I’d been in Lothering for years and she still thought I was plotting against her. She didn’t trust me. Maybe she never did. She loved me when she could use and control me, and now that she can’t, she wants me dead. It…hurts to realize that I never really knew her.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Leliana sighed heavily. “What if she’s right? What if we  _ are _ the same? Perhaps I should have just stayed in the Chantry.”

“I’m glad you volunteered to come with us. Your lockpicking is far superior to Zevran’s,” Liadan said, only half-joking. 

“Thank you.” She sighed again. “It’s just that some part of me regrets letting her live, not ending her life to protect my own. The people we’ve killed, we’ve done it in our own defense, but part of me enjoys it, finds it invigorating. And that frightens me. I feel myself slipping.”

“You’re nothing like her. You’re a good person,” Liadan hissed vehemently. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“Evil doesn’t worry about not being good. I understand why you feel the way you do, but I hope you believe me when I say I trust you and treasure our friendship. You’re not cold-hearted or cruel like Marjolaine, only interested in yourself. You are good, Leliana. Have faith in yourself.” 

Leliana put an arm around the younger woman. “I am lucky to have a friend such as you to remind me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory friendship acknowledgment! Yay!


	12. Friendship Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wynne’s unbearable.”
> 
> “I am well aware, my friend. The old crone has her head stuck in the past.”

Liadan stomped over to Morrigan’s tent from across camp, a thunderous expression on her face. Her face was red—though whether it was with embarrassment or rage, it was hard to tell. She flopped down beside the witch and growled something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Wynne’s unbearable.”

“I am well aware, my friend. The old crone has her head stuck in the past.”

“She just…she still expects me to be the little girl I was when I first came to the tower, quiet as a mouse, terrified of everyone and everything,” Liadan huffed. “She doesn’t like the new commanding woman who wants to be something other than a Circle mage.”

“You want to be free, and she wants her chains,” Morrigan said thoughtfully.

“Exactly! And she thinks that I shouldn’t be allowed to be happy. She thinks Alistair and I shouldn’t be together, which is ridiculous!”

“Alistair is a fool, but he is loyal to you and easily led—commendable aspects in a man, in my opinion.”

Liadan giggled. “He’s really quite sweet.”

“He’s an idiot,” Morrigan sniffed.

“Maybe. But he’s my idiot and I adore him.”

“Then I wish you joy, my friend.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you know—that we’re friends. Leliana is lovely, but she doesn’t really understand my dislike of the Chantry, and Wynne, for all her wisdom, can be terribly sanctimonious. I had some friends in the tower, but one is dead, one is in solitary, and one is a blood mage whose trust I betrayed. It’s nice to spend time with someone who understands me,” Liadan said, her voice warm and fond.

“I…I do not know what to say.”

“That’s alright. I just wanted you to know.”

Morrigan thought for a moment, and then reached out and wrapped her arm around Liadan’s shoulders and pulled her into an embrace as she had seen the bard do sometimes. “You have done more for me than anyone else in this world. You killed my mother for me and brought me her grimoire—giving me both time free of her and a way to defend myself when she inevitably resurfaces. I can never repay you, Liadan.”

“You don’t have to repay me.”

“I know. That’s what makes it mean so much. That is how I know we are friends.”

Liadan hugged Morrigan back gently. “Thank you,” she said again.

“Would you like to help me examine my mother’s true grimoire? I’ve found some spells I think you would find useful. There were even some notes on spirit healing techniques.”

Liadan’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Come. I’ll show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More bonding! Yay.


End file.
